Back And Forth
by anxiousgeek
Summary: Sam fic, about her and Jacob.


Title: Back And Forth  
Rating/Warning: PG/None  
Spoilers: Secrets  
Recipient: Regan **tarimanveri**  
Request details: Regan wanted _1)Sam before SG-1, 2) Jacob Carter, 3)  
Something somehow related to how Sam came to be either "Doctor" or  
"Captain." and didn't want Jacob Carter using his influence to  
make things easier for Sam._

A few years ago she would've broken something. Let the anger consume  
her until she hurt something or someone. Or herself. A few years ago  
and she would've been out of control. Dangerously so. This was today  
though and the Air Force had taught her some sorely needed discipline,  
putting all her energy and anger into training and education.

Right now she was running.

Her feet hitting the footpath hard as she circled the park, every thud  
jolting through her and she knew she was pushing herself too hard.

She ran faster.

Her mind was racing just as fast, faster even as she went over the  
conversation she had had with her father less than an hour before.  
She had almost, almost, broken her phone receiver, slamming it down on  
him in anger. She had breathed hard and fast, counted to ten and then  
ran.

She was on her ninth circuit of the park with no desire to stop. Her  
legs were starting to ache a little but she had a lot more in her, she  
knew it. She had a lot more anger to get out.

How dare he?

How dare he try and have any influence over her life after virtually  
ignoring her since she was 14. He wants to get involved now? This was  
supposed to be a good day for her, she had only called him in the  
first place out of obligation and now everything was ruined.

She was hoping to break the news to her few friends tonight. To stand  
up in the restaurant, her glass in hand and announce that she had been  
accepted to study for her PhD in astrophysics at the university she  
wanted, with the professor she wanted. Her friends knew how important  
this was to her, how hard she had worked for this opportunity alone.  
Her father barely knew her at all.

She wanted to cry.

She ran faster.

They hadn't argued like that since he had caught her smoking at  
seventeen. Another 'problem' the academy had sorted out. Back then she  
had argued that she was old enough to smoke, that she was practically  
an adult. Today she hadn't said anything so childish, so obvious. They  
both knew she was an adult, she made her own decisions, her own bed  
and dealt with the consequences herself. He didn't get involved like  
this, didn't try and influence her life in any way.

Until today.

She realised though, as she pounded on the hard concrete, that most of  
the major decisions in her life had been to his liking. Joining the  
Air Force, Jonas, choosing to stay in the family home this time  
around. All things he approved of. He didn't like the fact that she  
left Jonas, eventually, but he couldn't argue with that fact he was a  
little unstable when he started hounding him, trying to get him to  
convince her to take him back.

Those words, his voice, they were all so clear in her mind and the  
running wasn't drowning him out. All she could hear was him telling  
her, yelling at her, how taking time out to do a PhD would damage her  
career. She'd never make General, she'd never ever make Captain at  
this rate. She'd never amount to anything and she certainly wouldn't  
make it into space. He was screaming inside her head and she was so  
angry.

Suddenly she was on her knees on the concrete, breathing hard and  
crying, her muscles screaming as loudly as Jacob Carter's voice in her  
mind.

She'd almost missed the ceremony before she'd come to her senses and  
realised how stupid she was being in not going to receive her PhD. She  
had cancelled the party her room-mate had arranged for her though, she  
wasn't in the mood for dealing with dozens of people she barely knew  
and a few of her stiffer professors. She had bargained her friend into  
a dinner party next week, just a few of the people she actually  
enjoyed spending time with. Not that she had many of those, she had  
isolated herself to the lab more and more as time had gone on. By the  
time she had emerged from the white coat, seeing the world without a  
microscope, she was amazed she still had any of those people left, any  
friends left.

She hadn't spoken to her father since she'd been accepted for her PhD.  
She hadn't even heard from him, no letters or messages. She had heard  
about him, fleeting conversations with passing Air Force Generals who  
knew him and therefore thought they knew her. She knew what he was  
doing to a certain extent, when he was in the country or out of it and  
she was sure he knew the same about her, that she was still stubbornly  
studying for a PhD when he'd rather she'd be working her way up the  
ranks and into NASA.

She was Doctor Samantha Carter and she was curled up on her sofa under  
a blanket, her tired eyes still fighting the exhaustion that had come  
over since finishing her studies. She was due on duty in a week. Back  
out into normal air force duties, to whatever they had decided they  
wanted her to do. She didn't mind, she liked the idea of not having to  
think too much for a little while and just doing what she was told.

She didn't want to cry and trying not to was tiring her out. She had  
tried to talk to her father, but had ending up leaving message after  
message saying she'd call back. She'd try again another time. Another  
time had come and gone so in the end she had told his secretary to  
tell him she had a PhD now and was returning to normal duties.

She suspected that he'd be more pleased that she was returning to duty.

She had been feeling so good a few days ago, on top of the world. Now,  
she felt the opposite. The world had fallen in on her. She barely  
spoke to Mark and he really hadn't been that thrilled for her, she  
couldn't get hold of her father to even find out if he cared and her  
mother? Her mother would've cared, would've been twice as excited as  
she had been.

She did depression really well.

She knew she should get up, eat or go to bed, or do something because  
she had a doctorate in astrophysics and it was going to waste lying on  
her sofa. She had a very good mind, so she was told, and all she was  
using it for at the moment was trying not to cry. Maybe she should  
just let go and get it over with. Then maybe she'd feel better and be  
able to get up. She hated to cry though, hated to feel out of control  
like that, for people to know she was out of control, that she  
couldn't cope with something. Couldn't cope with her emotions. There  
was no time for emotions in the Air Force and no time for emotions in  
the lab. You can't cry when you're disciplined and you can't cry over  
an experiment.

So she hadn't, even when she had wanted to. She'd gotten good at not  
crying since starting her PhD, experiments had gone wrong all over the  
place, she blown things, hurt herself and others. Weeks had gone by  
without a successful experiment and it had worn her down, she had  
wanted to cry so many times but couldn't because she was stood in the  
middle of the lab in a white coat and goggles. She couldn't cry if  
only for the fact her goggles would fill up with tears and she  
wouldn't be able to see.

She snorted at her own thought and remembered that she was alone, no  
one was there to see her cry. She thought about it for a little while  
but it didn't convince her that she could cry. She didn't want to and  
she wasn't sure she was able to.

She did get up though, standing up and throwing her blanket to one  
side. She tried to avoid looking at herself in the mirror hanging in  
their lounge. She looked awful and she knew it. Too thin, too tired  
and her hair was so long she needed to tie it back. She'd have to get  
cut before returning to duty.

She have to do some extra training too. She had been working out,  
training while working on her PhD but it wasn't anything like the  
fitness levels she'd be expected to maintain. She didn't have the  
energy to run though, not today, not this week. She would just have to  
suffer along.

At least it was something she was getting good at. Controlling her  
emotions, the overwhelming need to cry or throw something whenever the  
mood took her.

Doctor Samantha Carter...Hadn't been worth it almost.

Almost.

She was angry again, the same screaming anger that had ran through her  
mind and her body the last time she had argued with him. What was it  
about him that always made her feel so intensely pissed or suicidal.  
Okay, suicidal was an exaggeration but he had an ability to make her  
feel awful in one way or another most of the time.

She couldn't remember the last time he had made her smile.

Which would've made her depressed if it wasn't for the fact that she  
was already too angry to feel anything else.

"I told you so."

Those words ringing in her ears. She felt a sudden wave of deja vu and  
it angered her even more. He was predictable, and repeatable and that  
didn't even make sense. None of this made sense.

He should've been consoling her on her failure to be promoted to  
Captain, not berating her for risking her career for some useless  
studies. For a few letters after her name.

He was more interesting in the letters in front of your name. Always  
had been, she should've known better really, he didn't have any  
civilian friends any more. They had all been abandoned soon after her  
mother had died.

She had been all but abandoned by him after her mothers death too,  
only to have him come in now and again to remind her what a poor job  
she was doing with it. A failed attempt at promotion, a few pointless  
letters at the end of her name and a reprimand on her file.

Pranks that involved taking apart expensive jet planes without  
permission were frowned upon.

She didn't know what was wrong with her, she wasn't like that, she  
didn't do things like that, pull pranks but she hadn't felt like  
herself for months and now she just felt angry again. She had been  
bitterly disappointed in missing out on the promotion but she had  
understood why. Her doctorate had meant she hadn't spent the amount of  
time needed on duty in the last six months, she accepted that but it  
was still disappointing.

She could deal with disappointment.

What she couldn't deal with was her father calling her up out of the  
blue and saying 'I told you so'.

I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.

She screamed and put her foot through her lounge door.

Later on, when she calmed down and run herself ragged around the base,  
she would realise that she wasn't angry, it was more that she was  
hurt. Her own father had hurt her again and that, that was more than  
she could deal with.

Now, however, with the red mist swirling around in her mind and his  
words echoing in her ears all she could think about was how much she  
hated him and how she should never have forgiven him all those years  
ago. Should never have forgiven him the last time he had made her feel  
this angry.

When her mother had died.

She wasn't going to cry. Not over a failed promotion and definitely  
not over him. She felt too angry to cry, to feel sad, it was tearing  
at her insides, tearing her up. Splinters from the door was scatter  
across the floor, and she could see her running shows through the  
hole. She should run, she knew it, because if she didn't, if she  
didn't do something, more than just the lounge door was going to be  
broken.

She really couldn't afford to spend time in the infirmary with broken bones.

She was doing it all over again, running herself to exhaustion, to  
death, on hard concrete. Following her usual circuit of the base over  
and over again, her feet pounding hard on the ground, putting over  
ounce of anger and energy into running the anger out of her. It  
worked, it worked but it was exhausting and she knew she shouldn't  
have to do this.

She shouldn't have to do this again.

She wanted to scream out but she was breathing too hard. Eventually  
she knew what would happen. She would collapse on the floor, sink to  
her knees and cry. Same old cycle all over again.

She wasn't sure she could keep doing this.

The last time she had seen him was shortly after her promotion to  
Captain. He had been unable to attend the ceremony itself, calling her  
to tell her that but arranging to have dinner with her to celebrate.  
To catch up.

After last time Sam had decided not to let herself get so worked up  
over Jacob Carters failings as a father, she had endured (and enjoyed  
a little) his company and the things that came out of mouth without  
getting upset or angry.

Or depressed.

Though she had gone for a run the next day it wasn't one of her usual  
destructive runs, just a light jog. She felt okay, she had dealt with  
the situation like a Captain, like the good, polite, Air Force officer  
that she was. That she was expected to be anyway.

She hadn't seen him since then, and, when he turned around standing  
next to Hammond, she had been happy to see because she felt like she  
could deal with him again. Without getting worked up, letting her  
emotions get out of control over him. She was her father after all and  
she had forgiven him for worst things.

She had hugged him, she hadn't done that the last time they had met  
and she hadn't had a hug from her father in years. There was something  
terribly wrong with that but that wasn't what was on her mind now.

After she had berated herself for crying in public, letting out those  
tears with so many people so close by. At home was the place to cry  
and she figured that her fathers cancer was reason enough to cry.

To really cry.

She hadn't cried this much since her mother had died. Funny how  
everything her father did brought her back to her mother.

But then, things hadn't been right with him since she had died. Their  
relationship had fallen apart that day and they weren't ever going to  
get it back. Soon, soon it would be too late to even try and get back  
to that place, those feelings that she had when she was a kid. When  
she loved him unconditionally, and he never made her angry or sad and  
he always made her smile.

He had made her depressed again, had made her angry and sad all at  
once this time. Though, she had to admit, it wasn't entirely his  
fault. He had cancer but the guilt trip and his words had hurt. Why  
did he have to hurt her all time?

Maybe she could ask him before he died.


End file.
